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Lips... tired, sore and red

She tried to rub her worries away

But they only became further ingrained

With pain and sparkles of what was to come

She roamed the streets

Looking and searching for that outlook

But, did it ever really exist?

Was she ever to reach that peak?

Lip...tired, sore and bruised

She stumbled through the dark mist, ruffling and sighing

As though there was something at the end

But, was she now supposed to shine and show the world that it was all worth the end?

Like every swear and tear added up to something

So much bigger than herself

But yet something that paper seemed to contain and spill out so effortlessly...

She, herself, struggled to contain

And why was that so?

"Little red rose",

She said to herself

Over and over again

"I’ll open

I’ll splatter

Those sparkles will gleam within me

They’ll direct my path"

I and she just have a long way to go...

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